


Resonance

by captainsarmband



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10191611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsarmband/pseuds/captainsarmband
Summary: It's a big win, a big step foward, but after Gladbach's triumph over Fiorentina, when the euphoria is palpable in his teammates and relief settles in his stomach, Jannik can't help but mull over his mistake that could have ruined it all.Until Andreas steps out to meet him and makes him realize that ruin is not where they are headed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to live in a world without Christensen/Vestergaard fic, so here we are.

 

 

He hits the ball at the penalty line, doesn’t meet it properly, but passes it to Andreas who clears it. He hits the ball at the penalty line, Tony rises high enough at the sidelines to take it down with his head and start the counter-attack. He hits the ball at the penalty line, it flies out of play in a high arc, cleared for a throw-in. It’s the easiest thing in the world.

 

“Jannik, are you coming?” Andreas calls and seconds later the door to the balcony slides open and his head emerges. “Man, you’re not even dressed. What are you doing out here?”

 

Jannik shifts where he is leaning with his forearms on the banister and pulls the sleeves of his hoodie up to the knuckles of his fingers. Over the past half an hour his mind has come up with hundreds of scenarios in which he manages to clear that ball. The easiest thing in the world. It’s just that none of them have happened. “You go, I think I’ll pass tonight.”

 

“Yeah, no, you won’t.” Andreas moves to step beside him, facing him with his arms crossed before his chest. “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” Jannik replies and scrunches his nose at how unconvincing it sounds. “I just don’t feel like going out tonight, is all. There’s another game on Sunday and-”

 

He is stopped by a hand tugging at a still damp strand of his hair and he turns his head. Andreas is wearing one of his dark blue shirts, one of his favourites, beneath his black leather jacket. It’s a sharp look that contradicts the soft expression on his face.

 

“What is up?” Andreas asks again, with more emphasis this time. “That was a massive match tonight. You should be ecstatic.”

 

“I am, like, on the inside,” Jannik says and Andreas snorts. “Can’t that be good enough?”

 

“It could be, but it’s bullshit,” Andreas replies matter-of-factly. “If we don’t celebrate games like this accordingly, then what are we even playing for?”

 

“You sound like Oscar.”

 

“And you sound like my grandmother.”

 

Jannik contemplates that for a second before he replies, “Mormor Lisbet is right about a lot of things.”

 

“I mean Hanne.”

 

“But she’s dead.”

 

“My point exactly.”

 

Jannik hangs his head and chuckles. When he looks back up, he is met with a deadpan face and a pair of expectantly raised eyebrows.

 

“Fair enough,” Jannik pushed himself from the banister and stands to tower over Andreas. “How would you feel,” he reaches out to tug at the lapel of Andreas’s jacket with both hands until Andreas lets himself be pulled forward and takes a half-step that makes their knees bump, “if we celebrated a little more privately?”

 

He lets his knuckles graze over the cloth of Andreas’s shirt and his hands come to a halt at his hips.

 

“What do you have in mind?” Andreas’s voice has lowered a notch and Jannik purses his lips to hide his satisfied smile.

 

“Well, I have an idea,” he says, hooks his index fingers in the belt loops of Andreas’s denim pants and pulls him closer while leaning down as if to whisper in his ear. His lips trace over the outline of Andreas’s ear and he can feel Andreas shiver against him as he places the ghost of a kiss to his neck.

 

“Okay,” Andreas’s voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Intriguing.”

 

“Yeah?” Jannik murmurs against his neck and grins.

 

“Yeah,” Andreas tilts his head to bear his neck, “but we’re still going.”

 

Jannik groans and drops his head to Andreas’s shoulder. “Why are you so hellbent on going?”

 

“Since you’re so hellbent not to,” Andreas shoots back and combs his fingers through the hair at the back of Jannik’s head. “We won, we celebrate. We deserve this.”

 

“Yeah, you do,” Jannik mumbles and takes in the stark scent of Andreas’s leather jacket.

 

“What was that?” Andreas gently pulls at his hair to lift Jannik’s head. Jannik tries to look sideways to stare out at the illuminated city, but Andreas won’t let him, tilts his head to catch Jannik’s eye and places a hand to his cheek. “What did you just say?”

 

Jannik knows how to guard himself, it kind of comes with the job description. He’s immune to the trash talk on the pitch, he can hold himself against the physical strength of any striker - but he is helpless against the soft grey of Andreas’s eyes, filled with a sheer endless sea of honesty and trust.

 

Jannik sighs. “I said you deserve to celebrate and-”

 

“And you don’t,” Andreas finishes for him, voice sterner than before. “Is that what you think?”

 

Jannik thinks back to the moment that has been replaying over and over in his mind all evening. Wanting to clear the ball and kicking nothing but air, stumbling over his own feet, helplessly watching the Fiorentina forward approach and Yann’s futile attempt to make up for his mess, digging his fingers into the grass and wanting to scream.

 

He shrugs.

 

“We could have lost because of me.” He hates how the words scratch in his throat.

 

“But we didn’t,” Andreas says and the sincerity in his voice makes Jannik want to look away. Instead he turns his head to press a kiss against the palm of his hand. “It could have happened to anyone.”

 

“But it didn’t.”

 

He doesn’t want to put this on Andreas, doesn’t mean to burden him with his own insecurities. But instead of faltering under the weight of Jannik’s regrets, Andreas stands a little taller to be at eye-level with him and searches his eyes for a second before capturing Jannik’s mouth with his.

 

Jannik responds slowly, allows himself to finally relax as Andreas coaxes his lips apart and Jannik can taste mint toothpaste on his tongue.

 

“You probably don’t remember,” Andreas murmurs against his lips between kisses, “but I played this youth cup with the U16 back at Brøndby. It wasn’t a big deal but all the older kids came to watch and we were all so eager to impress.” He moves his head to brush his cheek against Jannik’s and kisses along the line of his jaw. “It was a derby. The København boys were taller than us, stronger than us, but we fought them off. Until that one kid, Larsen, terrifying speed down their right, got his cross in and I tried to clear and buried it right inside our goal.”

 

The world is quiet around them, standing still for a moment while the only sound is Andreas’s voice, the only smells are his leather jacket and the lemon scent of his shampoo, the only thing that can touch him is his mouth against Jannik’s skin.

 

“We won on penalties later on,” Andreas continues quietly. “But I felt so humiliated by what happened, by what I’d done, that when the others went to celebrate in the dressing room, I stayed on the pitch. I must have looked pathetic.”

 

Jannik wants to protest but settles on running his hands up and down Andreas’s sides under his jacket.

 

“And then someone offered their hand and pulled me up from the ground. One of the U19, the tallest of them. I had been watching him for so long, studying his every move on the pitch, it was almost surreal to see him up close and suddenly have him look back.”

 

Jannik stops his movements and pulls back to look at Andreas who just stares back at him, unguarded.

 

“He told me to let it go. That with the final whistle my mistake ceased to matter and that there were a thousand moments ahead of me to be disappointed and dejected, but that this wasn’t one of them.”

 

Jannik leans forward and touches his forehead to Andreas’s. “That’s what he said?”

 

“More or less,” Andreas says, “less eloquently, maybe, I’m paraphrasing.”

 

Jannik chuckles and presses a kiss to Andreas’s forehead, enjoying how the base of his nose rests perfectly against his chin, before he pulls back again. “That sounds horribly phony.”

 

“It’s what a 14-year-old needed to hear.” Andreas smiles and tucks a strand of Jannik’s hair back behind his ear. “I could have loved you then.”

 

“Why didn’t you?”

 

“You left that summer.” Andreas shrugs and Jannik kisses his lips because he is here now and he can. “So the final whistle is blown and it doesn’t matter and are you coming to celebrate now? Because we are about half an hour late already.”

 

Jannik looks through the window and eyes the soft blankets and his already propped up laptop. Andreas follows his gaze, sighs, and tugs at the cords of Jannik’s hoodie. “Okay, grandma, you stay,” he says, “but are you okay?”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Positive.” He brushes his thumb over Andreas’s bottom lip before he kisses it. “You go have fun.”

 

“Alright.” Andreas nods and lets his hand slide down Jannik’s arm to squeeze his hand before he turns to leave. Jannik follows him with his eyes and through the warm feeling of fondness he can’t help but notice the way Andreas’s pants fit tightly in all the right places.

 

“And Jannik,” Andreas turns around in the doorway and Jannik’s eyes shoot up, caught, “wait up for me.” He winks and then he’s gone.

 

And Jannik turns back to watch the city with a smile on his face. Because he can feel in his bones that there are a thousand moments ahead of him to be disappointed and dejected. But that this isn’t one of them. And he is not facing them alone.

 

 


End file.
